


It's Not Always Black and White-

by EtherealNyx



Series: Assorted Pokeverse Drabbles [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Black & White | Pokemon Black and White Versions
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mutual Pining, NO ONE IN THIS THOUGH, Pre-Relationship, References to Depression, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic, everyone is bad at feelings, okay that's LITERALLY it, that's so funny fuck, why. why is that a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 09:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20812787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtherealNyx/pseuds/EtherealNyx
Summary: Making art's a little messy. It's a bit like having feelings.In which Black fucks up a lot, and then doesn't.





	It's Not Always Black and White-

**Author's Note:**

> I genuinely hate naming fics can you tell
> 
> Anyway, I'm only posting this because I wanted to prove I can write outside of Galar and also because I write so many drabbles for my Pokeverse that I never post because they don't make sense by themselves or are meant to be shoddy versions of future content. This one works okay though, so! Woo!
> 
> This is a little sad and is still a bit out of context in a way I can't fully explain, but hey! I'm trying! We'll get to them eventually, I promise.
> 
> Let's do it!

“You should get up and do something.” 

“Hello to you too, Cheren.” Black grumbled. “As much as I  _ love  _ your early morning wake up calls, can we not do this right now? I have a very busy schedule of lying in bed and doing nothing.”

“Don’t give me that sass,  _ Hilbert. _ ” Cheren snapped, complete with reddened cheeks and a sharp glare. Black  _ hated  _ that look. “I mean it. Isolating yourself from the world isn’t healthy.” 

“How can it be isolation if you’re always here to entertain me?” He shot back sarcastically, instantly regretting it the moment the words left his mouth.  _ Is there a psychological explanation for constantly wanting you closer the more I try to push you away, Cheren? Why don’t you tell me that instead of quoting your therapist all the time? _

Cheren winced, just like how Black thought he would.  _ Fuck.  _ “If you don’t want me here, you can just say so.” He raised his voice a little, probably trying to hide the hurt that was shining in his eyes. They were always too expressive for their own good, even when the rest of him wasn’t. “But I mean it! You should do something! You can’t keep feeling guilty forever-”

“I don’t feel guilty!” Black protested hotly. “He deserved it! You  _ know  _ he deserved it!” He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince: Cheren or himself? Ghetsis  _ did  _ deserve what had come to him, he knew that, but the face Cheren made when he came to see him, all covered in blood and wild eyed… it was better for his rival to be furious with him than afraid. He couldn’t do that anymore. 

“... You’re right, Touya.” Cheren said, but his voice was hesitant. “You didn’t do anything wrong. That doesn’t mean you should spend the rest of your life cooped up in here. Don’t you have anything you want to do?” 

It was a loaded question; Cheren was very fond of those. “Bianca misses you, you know. So does White.” He continued before Black could respond or even think too hard. “And your mom, naturally. She keeps trying to get me to stay the entire day if you can believe that.” 

“And you?” Black asked before he could stop himself. “Do  _ you  _ miss me?”

The other boy froze like a Deerling in headlights. “Do I what?” 

“Miss me.” 

A wide slew of emotions crossed Cheren’s face, but none lingered long enough for him to tell what they were. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re never there.” 

Black frowned at his downturned expression, futilely wishing he could iron out the creases in his forehead. “But I’m right here.” He told him, not daring to shift any closer. Knowing his tendency to self sabotage, he’d probably end up accidentally leaving a bruise in an attempt to comfort.

“You  _ know  _ that’s not what I mean.” Cheren whispered fiercely, voice hoarse. “You never answered my question, Touya. What do you  _ want _ out of life?”

Black leaned back, putting his head on the pillow. “Honestly? I dunno. What’s a hero supposed to do with his free time?” There he went again, using biting words as a refuge. No wonder no one wanted him around anymore. 

Unsurprisingly, his rival rose, turning to stride out of the room. “Why would I know  _ that _ ?” Cheren snarled. “I’m just some kid from Nuvema Town.”

He was off before Black could apologize. 

* * *

Before Cheren came to visit the next time, Black snuck out of the house to buy a canvas and paint. When asked if he’d like some paintbrushes, the former champion shook his head. “I have some at home.” He fibbed, flashing a glinting grin at the poor cashier. She didn’t smile back.

Sneaking back in was a trial, but he managed to get past White’s unnatural senses somehow. All that needed to happen now was creating a masterpiece. Burgh did it, so how hard could it really be?

By the time it looked like a smeared blue and yellow mess, his walls and clothes were similarly ruined. Not that he cared about either of those anyway, but it still felt like a nasty precedent to set. With muted fascination, he stared at the fat globs of paint clinging to his fingers. He did this to himself. He made something out of nothing, and only with his hands.

Once it dried, he put the canvas in his closet and slept for an entire day.

Scratch that. Make that two. 

* * *

“Have you talked to Bianca lately?” White asked, slurping on a milkshake. He didn’t have the energy to tell her to leave his room. She wouldn’t have anyway. 

“No. Why?” Black struggled to follow her train of thought even on better days. So much for twin intuition. 

She pushed the straw up and down, just to be annoying. “She misses talking to you. She’s a research assistant for that Juniper lady by the way! Isn’t that cool?” 

“Yeah, I know.” White never shut up about it. “She can just come see me if she wants to so badly though.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, bro! You  _ reek _ .” She wrinkled her nose exaggeratedly. “Do you even shower?”

He shrugged. “Some days, yeah. When I feel up to it.” 

_ And now she’s pitying you. Good going, hero.  _ Black thought bitterly.  _ You never do anything by halves. _

“At least you’re trying.” She conceded, punctuating this with a noisy sip. “Anyway, that’s not what I came in here to say. When are you going to see your Pokémon? We can’t hold onto them forever.”

“Soon.” Black waved her off, not meaning a word of it. They were too good to be with him right now. “Don’t worry about it. Look, I’m tired. Can we talk later?”

“Well,  _ yeah _ .” White peered at his face suspiciously before beaming. “No problem! Don’t be a stranger, mmkay?”

“No strangers here.” He replied softly, glossing over the fact that he felt stranger and stranger lately. 

If she suspected anything concrete, she kept it hidden remarkably well. Her exit was louder than her entrance, somehow, the crashing noises increasing in volume.

Black closed his eyes. He could feel a headache coming on.

* * *

_ What do you want to do? _

“Well, I don’t  _ know _ , Cheren.” Black said to empty air. “Stop being so nosy. I’m trying to figure it out.”

He wished he could be more like present day Bianca, someone who had a handle on her future. Or even Cheren always, who clung to his ambitions like a vise. 

He didn’t know what White-  _ stop it stop it don’t think about it- _

Black stared at the blank paper before him. An itch settled in his bones to fill it up with something, even if it was just meaningless spirals. He’d  _ give  _ it meaning, just by making it happen.

He put his pencil to the page.

* * *

Cheren stared at his room, hands on his hips. “You cleaned.” He said, like it was some big surprise.

“Yeah, and? So what?” Black replied, defensive. “Is it really so shocking?”

He didn’t answer at first. “... Why is there so much paint on the walls? Have you been redecorating? Poorly, I might add?” 

“Huh?” Cheren wasn’t wrong, per se. Splotches of color stained the otherwise eggshell white walls, but Black didn’t see it as a poor attempt at livening up his room. It was another form of art: careless, unplanned for, chaotically wonderful. It was a little like how he wanted to be. “I’ve just been painting a lot. It gets everywhere ‘cause I don’t have a paintbrush.”

His rival quirked his eyebrow questioningly. “Where are the paintings then?” It was meant to be more challenging than it sounded; he could tell.

Silently, Black jerked a thumb towards the closet. 

He could tell the moment when Cheren saw the canvas he had tried so hard to forget about making. “Is… Is this what I think it is?” The other boy’s voice sounded far too high. 

“Well, what do you think it is?” Black pushed, unable to stop himself from being cagey, even when it really mattered.  _ Especially _ when it did. 

“It’s me.” Cheren said without faltering. “Only it’s all in shades of purple. You did this with your  _ hands _ ? And from memory?”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I like the way you look.” 

He spluttered, a sure sign that Black was going to be left alone for a week again. Really, he didn’t mind. If Cheren painted him from memory, he’d probably feel the same way. 

“I’m taking this.” His rival informed him, barely managing to hold on to the painting with his shaky hands. 

Black shrugged again. “It’s all yours anyway.” He didn’t mention that he wrote their names on the back. Cheren would probably see it later if he cared to look.

He didn’t know if he wanted him to. Maybe they should just burn it and scatter the ashes to the wind, all the while letting go of the moment forever. That was what he was trying to do. He had been doing that his whole life.

Cheren left. Black didn’t say a word at all to stop him.

* * *

White came downstairs the next day to find Black drinking tea with their mother. “What took you so long?” He bottled up his amused laugh at the sight of her bewilderment. “You’re usually earlier than this.”

“Guess today’s a weird day.” She recovered instantly. “Got any eggs?” 

He passed her a plate as she walked by. “I think I will go outside today.” He told her. “Maybe look at the clouds. Sketch a Pidove.” 

“I mean, sure. Why not?” White ruffled his hair before he could jerk away. “Even weird days can be inspiring.”

“I think so.” Black thought about the art of violent creation and renewal. “They usually are.” 

* * *

When Black visited Cheren’s home, the painting was displayed proudly in his room. 

“It’s good, that’s all! Don’t read into it!” He glared, getting the words out before he could even open his mouth.

“I know.” Black said, and it was the only thing he knew how to say fondly where the other boy was concerned. “I get it, Cheren. After all, I had a good subject.” 

**Author's Note:**

> So! *hums Born to be a Winner* let's-
> 
> \- Black and White are twins. Black and White are nicknames for said twins; their Kantonese names are Touya and Touko, but their Galarian ones are Hilbert and Hilda. Bianca calls Black Bertie. Cheren does not. 
> 
> I wrote this because while I grapple with a lot of depression, making art definitely makes me feel like I can do things and improve on myself and how I handle my own emotions. Black's nothing like me, but still!
> 
> I wish I could elaborate further, but I CAN say this takes place after B2W2. That's about all I can go into though! Thanks!


End file.
